


the milk of human kindness

by mahariels



Series: all your bridges are burning [7]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Gen, bros, drinking with super mutants never ends well, strong smash plant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 22:37:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5392841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahariels/pseuds/mahariels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walking into Sanctuary and finding Codsworth in a blind panic and a fucking super mutant standing outside the Boss’ house, glaring at anyone who walks by and muttering, “Strong promise not to smash,” probably takes the goddamn cake, the pie, and any other desserts in the Eat’O’Tronic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the milk of human kindness

**Author's Note:**

> canonically (going by switch off convos anyway), strong and maccready are _kind of bros_ and i love it.

When MacCready decides to take some time off to clear his head he takes it fucking seriously, right? So when he tells the Boss he’s got some personal business to take care of and heads off into the Commonwealth wastelands on his own, he’s prepared to be gone a while. Even so, it turns out to be harder than he’d thought to ease back into traveling alone after getting so used to having the Boss around to watch his back. But finding more information that could help him with Duncan’s cure—that's worth it. And while he suspects the Boss would be more than willing to drop everything and help him herself, every time he thinks about telling her the words choke off in his throat.

After Quincy, especially.

He heads down to Diamond City to see whether his sources there have anything for him, but in the end it turns out to be a bust. That many ears on the ground  _should_  turn up something eventually, but it’s turning out that blue boils are even fucking rarer than he thought, and the rumors that had driven him north in the first place aren’t playing out.

He tries not to get too frustrated but it isn’t easy. While he’s in the City, he writes Duncan a letter. Each time, it gets a little harder. Only so many ways you can say  _be a good boy_  and  _I’m looking out for you, buddy, it’s going to be okay_  before it starts to sound a little hollow. The letters Duncan writes back are always cheerful and pleasant, but in a shaky, unsteady hand. He never mentions being sick, just the books he's read with Auntie Sarah and the injured baby molerat he had tried to tame (which bit his hand and ran away as soon as they took the cast off of its leg).

Sometimes MacCready wonders whether Duncan wouldn't be better off with his foster mother back in the hidden settlement farm. Safer, better off without him and without his goddamn  _influence_. But of course, that’s self-pitying bullshit and he sure as hell doesn't have any time for that. Still, it’s with a heavy fucking heart that he packs up his shit and gets ready to make the trek back to Sanctuary, not thinking about the irony of the fact that despite the fact he hates it, he always, always goes back.

She’s not there when he arrives, but unsurprisingly, she’s still making waves even in her absence. Codsworth comes floating up to him almost immediately after he crosses the bridge checkpoint, metal arms waving in distress. “Mr. MacCready!” the robot wails. “Mr. MacCready! Oh, you must talk some sense into her!”

“First off, she ain’t here so far as I can see,” he replies, “and second of all, I have no f—no idea what’s going on, but she doesn’t listen to anyone and you sure’s h—sure’s heck know that.”

Fact number one: the Boss has done some damned strange things in the past. 

Notably, the time she spent an entire job dressed like a comic book character (despite MacCready’s love of comic books and despite the fact that he kind of enjoyed watching her threatening people in character the whole thing was fucking ridiculous) or the time they helped a ship full of crazy robots attempt to launch on its last great voyage, with predictably bad results. Walking into Sanctuary and finding Codsworth in a blind panic and a fucking super mutant standing outside the Boss’ house, glaring at anyone who walks by and muttering, “Strong promise not to smash,” probably takes the goddamn cake, the pie, and any other desserts in the Eat’O’Tronic.

He blurts out, before he can even begin to stop himself,  “Holy  _shit_.”

“You see, sir?” Codsworth cries. “A super mutant! In Sanctuary! He’s  _destroyed_  the azaleas!” Sure enough, the sad wisps of dead plants that Codsworth has been carefully minding for the entire time MacCready’s known him are in shreds.

The super mutant bares his teeth in what MacCready thinks might be a smile (unsettlingly, it reminds him more than a little of the Boss). “Strong smash plant.”

“You sure f—you sure did, buddy.”

Codsworth lets out a long wail of despair and revs his thrusters, speeding off into the distance with a steady stream of complaints drifting back on the wind towards them.

Strong seems totally unfazed, his attention following the general path of Codsworth's retreat, his tiny, piggy eyes narrowed even further. “Machine weak. Cry much.”

The giant green monster may be a super mutant, but MacCready’d be lying if he hadn’t had very similar thoughts about Codsworth’s whinging in the past. “I think he likes complaining,” he says instead, then looks up at Strong. And up. And up some more. It feels like two MacCreadys standing on each others’ shoulders would still not entirely be able to look over the top of Strong’s head despite the fact that he knows it’s not true. The mutant’s certainly wider than two MacCreadys standing next to each other. And it’s not like he hasn’t seen super mutants before, and it’s not like he hasn't been up close to one before, but he has never in his goddamn life been standing next to one without also being in the process of trying to shoot it or run like hell.

Life has gotten pretty fucking strange, these days.

“So, uh. Strong. What the h—what are you doing in Sanctuary?” The unspoken ‘and why aren’t you trying to kill and eat people’ hangs between them in the air.

“Strong search for milk of human kindness. Human promised help.”

 _Human promised help_. The fucking  _Boss_. “She did, huh. And what the h—what’s the milk of human kindness?”

“Mack Beth say—” Strong starts, but Garvey moves before he can finish; rushes over to grab MacCready’s arm and drag him away before Strong can say anything else or before MacCready can ask further questions.

"Trust me, MacCready," Garvey whispers urgently, "you don't want to get him started on that one, okay? It takes about five seconds for him to go from trying to explain the milk thing to threatening to smash you. And I'm pretty sure there's only so long he's going to be patient."

"I can't believe you let a f—a super mutant into Sanctuary."

"It wasn't my choice, that's for sure. The General dropped him off the other day, before she and Valentine headed out again."

"Dropped off?" MacCready drawls. "Like he's a kid going to school. Makes perfect sense. What could go wrong?"

"Why the General does some of the things she does will be forever a mystery," Garvey says, and looks back at Strong, who is currently lifting one of the Boss’ collection of screwdrivers up and examining it. It looks like a toothpick in his gigantic fingers.

"So what's the deal with the milk?"

"As I said, it's better not to ask. It's got something to do with an old play, but I don't know what he thinks he's going to do with it when he finds it."

MacCready shakes his head. "A f—a super mutant who likes theater. What's the world coming to?"

"Maybe it will work out," Garvey says, although he sounds like he's trying to convince himself more than anything. "Maybe it won't be an absolute disaster, only a small one."

"Stranger things've happened."

Later that night, not long after MacCready has drifted off to sleep, the alarm siren rings and the sound of gunfire wakes him. He's instantly on his feet and fumbling for his rifle along with half of the other dormitory residents: he has to give them this, at least, their response time has certainly improved since he first arrived at Sanctuary. The entire operation's smoother; the settler on guard duty is already manning the machine gun turret by the time MacCready makes it outside to assess the threat and respond, which is a huge improvement from the first time Sanctuary got attacked and it was mostly him, the Boss, and Garvey who had to do the work while the rest of them cowered.

It is, of course, super mutants because the world has a hilarious sense of timing. As he fires, cutting down two of the mutants with quick and efficient precision, he has the brief thought what if the fucking super mutant told them where we were before he notices their big, green friend wading into the fray himself, roaring, "PAAAAAAIIIN!!!" as he smashes his gigantic automatic rifle into the head of another super mutant. 

“Whoa,” says MacCready, momentarily surprised into stillness.

This was, of course, a mistake. Because his attention’s gone for one fucking moment a super mutant he hadn't seen from the corner of his eye barrels forward and grabs him bodily by the ribcage, hoisting him up from the ground. His gun falls and the breath is forcibly expelled from his lungs.  _Shit, shit, shit_ , his brain chants in a monotone as he fumbles, kicking viciously as the mutant begins to crush him.

Although it’s rapidly getting difficult to breath, MacCready remains calm, as much as you can remain calm while you’re being slowly crushed to death by an angry green monster screaming so closely that flecks of spit hit your face. The mutant’s hands grip him under his armpits, making it difficult to move. Flails for the pistol holstered at his waist, which he rarely uses, and lines up the shot as best he can while being jolted around like he's on one of those pre-war carnival rides. He fires and the mutant roars in pain, staggering, grip loosening just enough that MacCready's able to kick him in the face repeatedly until he's dropped to the ground. 

Sprawled on the asphalt, he fires again, and the mutant drops.

Between all of them, it’s short enough work to mop up the rest. “I got two,” Hancock brags, and because MacCready is a magnanimous fucking gentleman, he doesn’t mention he killed three and Garvey also got a couple. Not to mention their new guest’s body count, which is impressive. His ribs fucking hurt, though, and he gingerly presses at them to see if they're broken and makes a choked noise when someone slaps him so hard on the back that he almost falls over again.

“Human good fighter!” Strong says vehemently. " _Good_  fighter!" The mutant’s covered in blood, most of it someone else's. MacCready tries not to think too much about the fact that  _an awful fucking lot of it_  is clustered around his mouth and when he smiles, stains his teeth.

“Uh, thanks, Strong,” he replies. “You ain’t too bad yourself. Bet that gun’s good for smashing, huh?”

“Very good! Strong smash many brothers.”

After checking to make sure that they've repelled the worst of them and that no further threat's on the horizon, many of the settlers, now awake, end up at the little bar that the Boss had had built on the foundation of one of the ruined houses. It's kept in stock through scavenging expeditions and as more and more people move in, she's added patio furniture, some extra stools to the bar counter, and even a potted plant. The only thing missing is a bartender, really, but since it's communal alcohol it's not like that really matters.

MacCready helps himself to a bottle of whiskey and a couple of shot glasses, gesturing for Strong to join him. "Come have a drink, my massive, mutated friend," he says, "as a thanks for your help out there."

The super mutant regards him for a long moment in silence and for a moment MacCready's worried he's going to lose it, but instead Strong nods approvingly. "Human share. Sharing good."

"Well, share a shot, then."

Strong sniffs the drink before lifting it (the shot glass is comically small in his sausage-fingers) and swallowing, and then scratches the side of his head. “This milk?”

“Whiskey.”

“Not milk?” Strong scowls, just a bit, like he was really expecting the milk of fucking human kindness to be stashed behind a bar in some settlement in the ass-end of the Commonwealth. He watches MacCready down his own glass of whiskey, and then says, “What human name?”

“MacCready,” MacCready says, and because he’s got no sense of fucking self preservation, extends his hand to shake. Strong doesn’t take it, just stares at it like he’s not really sure what MacCready’s trying to do, and after a second, MacCready shrugs and pours himself another shot. This guy’s a fucking character, all right, and that stupid mischievous whisper in the back of his head is giving him all of the wrong ideas.  _Let’s see what it takes to get this thing wasted_.

“Mac Ree Dee,” Strong repeats slowly. “Mack Beth your brother?”

“Uh… no.” It’s not like he doesn’t know what Macbeth  _is_ —they had a children’s book of Shakespeare in the Little Lamplight library—but he’s fairly sure that whatever Strong has on his mind has nothing to fucking do with MacCready’s knowledge. “Distant cousin, maybe. Have a drink.”

Strong drinks. “Place strange. Many weak humans, but all share.”

“That’s thanks to the Boss,” MacCready says, and takes the shot. “And Garvey, I guess. They were the first ones here, and everything else followed.” The whole situation is so fucking absurd that he’s finding it hard not to laugh. He’s sitting here drinking with a super mutant, who’s perched awkwardly on the edge of a bar stool and looking for all the world like old pre-war illustrations of a circus. All they’re missing is the ring leader and the rings.

“Other human fight well,” Strong says. “Kill Fist. Quick.”

“Fist?”

“Leader. In Tower. Many brothers there. Kill all humans.”

MacCready has a brief mental image of the Boss, on her own, storming a tower full of goddamn super mutants and decides that he is really nowhere near drunk enough to think about that or about the likelihood of one of them getting lucky and killing her. He takes another shot and pours one out for Strong.

“So what’s your deal, anyway? What happens if you run into more of your brothers?”

Strong shrugs. “Fight. Kill. Super mutant way.”

“That doesn’t  _bother_  you?”

“Strong have plan. Find milk of human kindness.  _Drink_ milk. Worth it.”

“If you say so… Here, have another.”

At the end of the night, they’re down a bottle of whiskey and halfway through another. The mutant is still sitting there looking exactly as large and imposing as ever and if there’s any change in his behavior, MacCready’s damned if he can tell. It doesn’t help that most mutants always seemed like vaguely homicidal drunks to him, what with all of the running and yelling and generally suicidally dumb behavior. He, on the other hand, is wasted. There’s something to be said for the FEV after all, even if it’s only in regards to metabolizing fucking  _alcohol_. “A bottle of whiskey and I bet you’re not even gonna have a hangover,” he grumbles at Strong.

“Too much talk,” Strong replies. “Hungry. Want eat someone.”

“We-ell, I think that’s  _my_ cue to call it a night.” He lurches to his feet, stumbling again as Strong claps him on the back.

“Goodbye, Mac Ree Dee.”

Somehow, he manages to make his escape and stumbles back to the Boss’ house and her empty bed. He figures she wouldn't mind if he passed out there, just for a bit, just until the room stopped spinning a little. 

He closes his eyes.

She shakes him awake.

“You tried to out drink a super mutant?” the Boss hisses, so as not to wake up the rest of Sanctuary. She’s pinching the bridge of her nose and she looks furious and it’s fucking adorable. “You tried to  _out drink a super mutant_.”

“I tried to get a super mutant  _drunk_ ,” he retorts. He can hear himself slurring the words but can't bring himself to care. “There’s a hell of a  _difference_ , Boss.”

“And what would you have done if he’d decided to go drunkenly rampaging through Sanctuary?”

He clearly has not thought it through that far and she knows it, and so he waves away her concern. “Killed him, obviously. But he didn’t, right? And you’re the one who trusted him enough to bring him back here anyway. Besides, we’re bros. I told him so, and all he said was,  _strange human, not brothers_ , and I said,  _not brothers,_ bros. So’s far as I’m concerned…”

She concedes his first point without admitting it, still shaking her head at the rest of what he’s got to say. “I leave you alone for  _five_   _minutes_ …”

If he was drunk enough not to care, or maybe less drunk and slightly more confident, he might’ve said that she shouldn’t do it again then, but as it is, he groans. “Well, that’s one thing I can check off my f—bucket list and never, ever do again.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” the Boss says, with that little grin that’s not entirely a grin. “Should I ask about the rest of the list?”

“ _No_. And stop asking questions or I’m gonna have to pass out in self defense.”

He might have a horrible hangover in the morning but he's got a hell of a story to tell. In the end, everything evens out.


End file.
